Winter morning. Poem “Winter Morning” (“Frost and sun, a wonderful day...”)

Painting by Gustav Courbet "The Outskirts of a Village in Winter"

Through the wavy mists
The moon creeps in
To the sad meadows
She sheds a sad light.

On the winter, boring road
Three greyhounds are running,
Single bell
It rattles tiresomely.

Something sounds familiar
In the coachman's long songs:
That reckless revelry
That's heartbreak...

Painting by Nikolai Krymov " Winter evening"

IT WAS AUTUMN WEATHER THAT YEAR

That year the weather was autumn
She stood in the yard for a long time.
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting,
Snow only fell in January
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatiana saw in the window
In the morning the yard turned white,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
There are light patterns on the glass,
Trees in winter silver,
Forty merry ones in the yard
And softly carpeted mountains
Winter is a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything sparkles all around.

Painting by Arkady Plastov "First Snow"

WHAT A NIGHT! CRACKING FROST

What a night! Frost is bitter,
There is not a single cloud in the sky;
Like an embroidered canopy, a blue vault
Replete with frequent stars.
Everything in the houses is dark. At the gate
Locks with heavy locks.
People are buried everywhere;
Both the noise and the shout of the trade died down;
As soon as the yard guard barks
Yes, the chain rattles loudly.

And all of Moscow is sleeping peacefully...

Konstantin Yuon "End of Winter. Midday"

Poems by A.S. Pushkin about winter - an excellent way to look at snowy and cold weather with different eyes, to see in it the beauty that gray everyday life and dirty streets hide from us. It was not for nothing that they said that nature has no bad weather.

Painting by Viktor Grigorievich Tsyplakov “Frost and Sun”

WINTER MORNING

Frost and sun; wonderful day!
You are still dozing, dear friend -
It's time, beauty, wake up:
Open your closed eyes
Towards northern Aurora,
Be the star of the north!

In the evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
There was darkness in the cloudy sky;
The moon is like a pale spot
Through the dark clouds it turned yellow,
And you sat sad -
And now... look out the window:

Under blue skies
Magnificent carpets,
Glistening in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river glitters under the ice.

The whole room has an amber shine
Illuminated. Cheerful crackling
The flooded stove crackles.
It's nice to think by the bed.
But you know: shouldn’t I tell you to get into the sleigh?
Harness the brown filly?

Sliding on the morning snow,
Dear friend, let's indulge in running
impatient horse
And we'll visit the empty fields,
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.

Painting by Alexey Savrasov "Courtyard. Winter"

WINTER EVENING

The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
Then he will cry like a child,
Then on the dilapidated roof
Suddenly the straw will rustle,
The way a belated traveler
There will be a knock on our window.

Our dilapidated shack
And sad and dark.
What are you doing, my old lady?
Silent at the window?
Or howling storms
You, my friend, are tired,
Or dozing under the buzzing
Your spindle?

Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief; where is the mug?
The heart will be more cheerful.
Sing me a song like a tit
She lived quietly across the sea;
Sing me a song like a maiden
I went to get water in the morning.

The storm covers the sky with darkness,
Whirling snow whirlwinds;
Then, like a beast, she will howl,
She will cry like a child.
Let's have a drink, good friend
My poor youth
Let's drink from grief: where is the mug?
The heart will be more cheerful.

Painting by Alexey Savrasov "Winter Road"

Here is the north, the clouds are catching up...

Here is the north, the clouds are catching up,
He breathed, howled - and here she is
The winter sorceress is coming,
She came and fell apart; shreds
Hanged on the branches of oak trees,
Lay down in wavy carpets
Among the fields around the hills.
Brega with a still river
She leveled it with a plump veil;
The frost has flashed, and we are glad
To the pranks of Mother Winter.

Painting by Gustav Courbet "The Outskirts of a Village in Winter"

WINTER!... PEASANT TRIUMPHANT... (Excerpt from the poem "Eugene Onegin")

Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On the firewood he renews the path;
His horse smells the snow,
Trotting along somehow;
Fluffy reins exploding,
The daring carriage flies;
The coachman sits on the beam
In a sheepskin coat and a red sash.
Here is a yard boy running,
Having planted a bug in the sled,
Transforming himself into a horse;
The naughty man has already frozen his finger:
It's both painful and funny to him,
And his mother threatens him through the window.

Painting by Isaac Brodsky "Winter"

WINTER ROAD

Through the wavy mists
The moon creeps in
To the sad meadows
She sheds a sad light.

On the winter, boring road
Three greyhounds are running,
Single bell
It rattles tiresomely.

Something sounds familiar
In the coachman's long songs:
That reckless revelry
That's heartbreak...

Painting by Nikolai Krymov "Winter Evening"

IT WAS AUTUMN WEATHER THAT YEAR

That year the weather was autumn
She stood in the yard for a long time.
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting,
Snow only fell in January
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatiana saw in the window
In the morning the yard turned white,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
There are light patterns on the glass,
Trees in winter silver,
Forty merry ones in the yard
And softly carpeted mountains
Winter is a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything sparkles all around.

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Reading the first stanza:

Frost and sun; wonderful day!
You are still dozing, dear friend -
It's time, beauty, wake up:
Open your closed eyes
Towards northern Aurora,
Be the star of the north!

Let's pay attention to lines 4-6. They contain not only "dark" words, although their obscurity may not be noticed, but also two now outdated archaic facts of grammar. Firstly, aren’t we surprised by the phrase “open your eyes”? After all, now you can only cast your gaze, direct your gaze, lower your gaze, but not open it. Here the noun gazes has the old meaning of “eyes.” The word gaze with this meaning is found in artistic speech first half of the 19th century centuries constantly. The participle “closed” is of unconditional interest here. Short Communion, as you know, is always a predicate in a sentence. But then, where is the subject to which it refers? In meaning, the word closed clearly gravitates towards the noun gazes, but it is (open what?) an undoubted direct object. This means “closed” is the definition of the word “gaze”.

But why then are they closed and not closed? Before us is the so-called truncated participle, which, like the truncated adjective, was one of the favorite poetic liberties of poets of the 18th - first half of the 19th centuries.

Now let's touch on one more word in this line. This is the noun "bliss". It is also not without interest. In S.I. Ozhegov’s dictionary it is interpreted: “Nega - i.zh. (obsolete) 1. Complete contentment. Live in bliss. 2. Bliss, a pleasant state. Indulge in bliss."

“The Dictionary of Pushkin’s Language” notes along with this the following meanings: “State of serene peace” and “sensual intoxication, pleasure.” The word bliss does not correspond to the listed meanings in the poem in question. In modern Russian it is in in this case It is best translated by the word sleep, since sleep is the most complete “state of tranquil rest.”

Let's go down a line below. Here, too, linguistic facts await us that require clarification. There are two of them. Firstly, this is the word Aurora. As a proper name, it begins with a capital letter, but in terms of its meaning it acts here as a common noun: the Latin name of the goddess of the dawn describes herself morning dawn. Secondly, its grammatical form. After all, now after the preposition one should meet dative noun and by modern rules should be “Towards Northern Aurora.” And the genitive case is Aurora. This is not a typo or an error, but a now obsolete archaic form. Previously, the preposition towards required after itself a noun in the form genitive case. For Pushkin and his contemporaries this was the norm.

Let's say a few words about the phrase “Appear as a star of the north.” The word star (of the north) here means the most worthy woman in St. Petersburg, and is not used in direct meaning- heavenly body.

Second stanza

In the evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
There was darkness in the cloudy sky;
The moon is like a pale spot
Through the dark clouds it turned yellow,
And you sat sad -
And now... look out the window:

Here we will pay attention to the words evening and darkness. We know that the word vecher means yesterday evening. In common usage, the word haze now means darkness, gloom. The poet uses this word to mean “thick snow, hiding everything around in the fog, like a kind of curtain.”

Third stanza

Under blue skies
Magnificent carpets,
Glistening in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river glitters under the ice.

The third stanza of the poem is distinguished by its linguistic transparency. There is nothing out-of-date about it, and it does not need any explanation.

4th and 5th stanzas

The whole room has an amber shine
Illuminated. Cheerful crackling
The flooded stove crackles.
It's nice to think by the bed.
But you know: shouldn’t I tell you to get into the sleigh?
Ban the brown filly?

Sliding on the morning snow,
Dear friend, let's indulge in running
impatient horse
And we'll visit the empty fields,
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.

There are linguistic “peculiarities” here. Here the poet says: “It’s nice to think by the couch.”

Analysis of incomprehensible words and expressions

Here the poet says: “It’s nice to think by the couch.” Do you understand this proposal? It turns out not. The word bed is bothering us here. A lounger is a low (at the level of a modern bed) ledge near a Russian stove, on which, while warming up, they rested or slept.

At the very end of this stanza, the word ban sounds strange and unusual instead of the normative, correct modern harness from the verb harness. At the time, both forms existed on equal terms, and, undoubtedly, the form “to ban” appeared here in Pushkin for rhyming as a fact of poetic license, which was determined by the word stove that stood above.

Thank you, Lyuba, for the article! Thanks to you and your article, I was transported to this sunny, frosty day, breathed in the fresh, vigorous air that smelled of watermelon, saw the sun piercing and transforming everything around... And I admire these ice floes and hummocks of incredible shape and sparkling purity. The sun's rays, piercing the transparency of the ice, reflected on the white blanket of snow with sparkles of all the colors of the rainbow. And blue sky. And white clouds. And tenderness in the air.” But the next phrase: “The gaze from the contemplation of external beauty moves to internal contemplation... and the inner world is reflected in an amazing way, as if from a magic mirror, into the outer one...” - evokes a feeling of aching recognition... Where has this already been?... A premonition of Eternity through beauty material world? Al Farid! “Big Kasida or Path of the Righteous (Revelation of the Soul - to the True Self)”! The very beginning - “THE EYES FEED THE SOUL WITH BEAUTY”! And further: “Oh, golden cup of the universe! And I got drunk from the flash of lights, from the clinking of bowls and the joy of friends. To get drunk, I don’t need wine, - I’m drunk with the sparkle of drunkenness!” - this drunkenness with the “sparkle of drunkenness,” filled with the beauty of the world is the beginning of the path. And God, infinity begin here, now in this specific existence. Saint Simeon, the new Theologian, said that whoever does not see God in this life will not see him in the next. And the beginning of the path to God is the indispensable fullness of the heart and the fullness of love. This is love for a flower, for a tree...” (Z. Mirkina). Al Farida’s poem echoes and is echoed by another Sufi work - “The Book of the Path of the Sufi”: ““The first step in the ascent of the soul to the Path is love for everything that exists in the Creation of Allah. Let the one who dares to follow the Path become a brother or sister to every tree growing on earth, every bird singing in the branches or flying in the sky, every lizard scurrying in the sands of the desert, every flower blooming in the garden! Every living creature of Allah begins to matter in the lives of such ascetics - as a great miracle created by Allah for his own and our improvement! Each person is then seen not just as a relative or a stranger, a friend or a stranger - but as a child of the Creator!” (From the parable “On the Path of the Sufi and life in the embrace of God.” RGDN)

Here's “frost and sun” for you! Through external beauty- to the inner, to God. Because God is everywhere and in everything, and in everyone - in every blade of grass, in every blade of grass, in every snowflake, in every phenomenon, in every person... Thank you, Lyuba, for this push of ezoosmosis - for your article!

logos2207 01/06/2018 21:59

WINTER MORNING.

In the evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
There was darkness in the cloudy sky;
The moon is like a pale spot
Through the dark clouds it turned yellow,
And you sat sad -
And now..... look out the window:

Under blue skies
Magnificent carpets,
Glistening in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river glitters under the ice.

The whole room has an amber shine
Illuminated. Cheerful crackling
The flooded stove crackles.
It's nice to think by the bed.
But you know: shouldn’t I tell you to get into the sleigh?
Ban the brown filly?

Sliding on the morning snow,
Dear friend, let's indulge in running
impatient horse
And we'll visit the empty fields,
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.

Poem " Winter morning” A.S. Pushkin was written by him during one of the most fruitful creative periods - during his exile in Mikhailovskoye. But on the day when this poetic work was born, the poet was not on his estate - he was visiting friends, the Wulf family, in the Tver province. When starting to read the poem “Winter Morning” by Pushkin, it is worth remembering that it was written in one day, and not a single edit was made to the text. One can only marvel at the talent of the creator, who was able to so quickly embody his own mood, the beauty of Russian nature, and reflections on life in magnificent landscape lyrics. This work is rightfully one of the most famous in Pushkin’s work.

In the poem “Winter Morning” several important topics. The main and most obvious is the theme of love. In each line one can feel the poet’s tenderness addressed to his beloved, one can feel his reverent attitude towards her, the inspiration that gives him the feeling. His beloved is a lovely child of nature, and this is sweet to him and causes deep heartfelt emotions. Another topic is reflections on the birth of a new day, which erases all previous sorrows and makes the world more beautiful and more fun. Despite the fact that the evening was sad, today the sun illuminates everything around, and its light gives the most important thing - hope. In addition, Alexander Sergeevich uses the landscape not just as artistic technique to personify his own thoughts and not only as a symbol of a new beginning - the beautiful Russian nature is also the theme of his poem, which can be downloaded to slowly enjoy each line. And finally, the general idea of ​​the entire work is the unity of man and nature in the general philosophical sense.

The general mood that can be felt in the text of Pushkin’s poem “Winter Morning,” which can be read online for free to feel the joy of life, is optimistic, because it tells that any storm is not eternal, and after it, when a bright streak comes, life is still more wonderful. Even the stanzas that talk about evening sadness seem to be full of joyful anticipation of the morning. And when it comes, the joy becomes complete, because everything around, every snowflake illuminated by the winter sun, is so beautiful! This is a cheerful and cheerful work - it seems that the poet forgot both about exile and loneliness, admiring his sleeping beloved and native nature. Reading this poem fills the soul positive emotions, reminds us of how beautiful the world is and how important it is to love our native nature.

Frost and sun; wonderful day!
You are still dozing, dear friend -
It's time, beauty, wake up:
Open your closed eyes
Towards northern Aurora,
Be the star of the north!

In the evening, do you remember, the blizzard was angry,
There was darkness in the cloudy sky;
The moon is like a pale spot
Through the dark clouds it turned yellow,
And you sat sad -
And now... look out the window:

Under blue skies
Magnificent carpets,
Glistening in the sun, the snow lies;
The transparent forest alone turns black,
And the spruce turns green through the frost,
And the river glitters under the ice.

The whole room has an amber shine
Illuminated. Cheerful crackling
The flooded stove crackles.
It's nice to think by the bed.
But you know: shouldn’t I tell you to get into the sleigh?
Ban the brown filly?

Sliding on the morning snow,
Dear friend, let's indulge in running
impatient horse
And we'll visit the empty fields,
The forests, recently so dense,
And the shore, dear to me.